


Was it you?

by ParkrGrent



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Boggarts, Fluff and Smut, Internal Conflict, M/M, Self-Discovery, Teacher Draco, Teacher Harry, Teacher Neville
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:15:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28990569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParkrGrent/pseuds/ParkrGrent
Summary: Harry is a teacher at Hogwarts and trying to convince himself that he isn’t lonely. New discoveries help him find what he’s looking for.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Kudos: 37





	Was it you?

  
He could here someone calling after him from across the hall as he speed-walked to his classroom. Already late for his next lesson, he could spare no time for the young girl who was most likely going to ask him about an upcoming homework or exam or quidditch match. He called over his shoulder, asking her to come after class when he wasn’t running around the school. Her calls just got more frantic, however, sounding more like the red phoenix he’d known in his earlier years than a student resident of Hogwarts.

“Professor! Will you just stop and listen?” The urgency in her voice made him stop.

“What is it Ms. Jordan?” He sighed.

“I’m sorry, sir, but there’s a situation in the dungeons! We think someone’s in the school!” 

They wasted no time. Harry sent a patronus to his class on the third floor to dismiss his class early and tumbled down the stairs after his student, Alyssa Jordan, who studying at Hogwarts for her seventh year. She was a kind-hearted young witch who, normally, treated everyone with politeness, respect, and fairness. Had the situation been any different, Harry probably would have chuckled at the site of the Hufflepuff bustling down the hall, pushing and shoving everyone in her way without the smallest of apologies, shouting at anyone who refused to cooperate and stomping down the stairs to the dungeons with an impregnable determined pace.

When they arrived, Alyssa lead the professor to the back of the class, still pushing and shoving through the panic-struck crowd that was standing near the door of the potions office. Harry nodded at students, apologizing on behalf of the young girl and reassuring everyone that it would be fine. His words sounded clear, calm, and true, but a great observer wouldn’t fail to notice the slight shake of his hand and the uneasy look in his green eyes. 

To be perfectly fair, the last time someone had entered the castle had resulted in many deaths and severe injuries and though he tried to rationalize, a small part of him refused to believe it could be a coincidence that all this commotion was happening in the potions classroom. The better part of him kept calm and hoped this was all a misunderstanding. Draco Malfoy wasn’t the same scared manipulable boy he had been ten years ago. This _was_ an improbable coincidence. 

The students had stopped shouting after the arrival of their professor and Harry could now clearly make out the shouting behind the closed door of the potions professor’s office. A green light flashed through the crack of the door for a moment and Harry didn’t hesitate to cast. _Alohomora_!

He motioned for Alyssa to stay behind and crossed the threshold into the small office. It took a few moments for his mind to comprehend what exactly he was facing. Even after closing the door behind him to stop the curious gaze of the horde of students on the other side, he couldn’t comprehend just what he was looking at.

Lucius Malfoy was standing in front of his son, wand out and casting killing curses left and right. The youngest Malfoy was curled in a ball on the floor, crying but very much alive despite the lethal spells hitting his side. Harry tried to disarm the man, first, knowing it probably wouldn’t do much to help the situation. Lucius Malfoy had been dead for the last seven years. Dead dead, not Tom Riddle dead. 

“You’re a disgrace!” The former patriarch of the Malfoy family shouted, “You bring shame to this family. You soil our name!” Harry shot a stinging hex that sent him tumbling slightly, but the seething voice continued, “How dare you associate the Malfoy lineage with such perversions?” 

The potion’s professor had stilled in the corner. He looked up at his father with tears rolling down his sharp cheekbones with his eyes red and puffy, “Anything perversions I decide to partake in will be nothing compared to the shame you put our family through. You are dead! You have no more control over me.” He paused and looked at Harry before picking up his wand from the floor and whispering a soft _Riddikulus_. 

The spell didn’t have the desired effect. Malfoy was far from laughing and he couldn’t harm the boggart even if he tried in his current state of mind. Harry cast his own spell from where he stood behind him. _Riddikulus_! The boggart Lucius stumbled and a moment later was covered in a tattered beige bag similar to the one Dobby had worn when Harry had first met him, but barely long enough to cover his pride. On his neck was a leather collar with a bell that jingled and his voice had gone into a high falsetto rendering him incapable of speaking in a menacing tone without sounding like a certain highly frustrated pink ex-ministry official. None of what he said now could be taken seriously. 

Boggart-Lucius covered his practically uncovered goods and squeaked. His evil glare made him look like an angry puppy and Harry laughed. Partly because he was relieved that the situation had been taken care of and that nothing bad was going to happen in the castle. The fear that had taken refuge inside him when he’d heard of the intruder in the castle disappeared with every exhale. He laughed at the whole situation. To think he’d thought his colleague was up to something like he’d been in their youth. To think that as student he’d always thought wasn’t capable of causing harm to a single soul had escorted him like a badass bodyguard. 

He turned to Malfoy, who was brushing himself off where he stood in the corner of the small office, smiling ever so slightly and avoiding his gaze. He went to shove the boggart into a chest he’d conjured and turned back to speak.

“You’ve really scared the students there, professor.”

“I’m sure they weren’t the ones who suffered the most here.” His tone was cold. His smile had disappeared.

“I’m sorry, Malfoy. I didn’t me—”

“I know what you meant.”

Despite having worked in the same building for five years now, the pair hadn’t spoken much. It was known throughout the school that the two had grown up as rivals and that despite the civil greetings when they were in each other’s presence, their rivalry persisted. They never resorted to violence, however tempting. They satisfied their rivalry by comparing the grades their students received in each course. Though they knew it didn’t really mean anything about their teaching skills, they still boasted greatly whenever their students performed better and weather they wanted to admit it or not, they both considered that they were committed and good at their jobs.

Harry wondered if they’d ever have a chance to put everything behind them. He wondered what could have happened if they’d called a truce and decided to work together rather than against. He’d often thought that they’d make a good team. They could read each other’s thoughts without trying and after so many years spent fighting, they knew each and every one of their triggers. Harry knew that Lucius was a difficult topic. He’d often used it to anger the blond. He knew he should just leave it be, but something was off about what he’d seen. Something new.

“Are you going to leave?” The sharp tap of an impatient foot brought him back to reality.

“What was the boggart talking about?” Harry knew he shouldn’t have asked. Malfoy was going to kick him out.

“You’ve met my father. Figure it out if you’re so curious. Now leave.” He flicked his wand and the door opened to let him out. When Harry didn’t move, Malfoy sat at his desk and rubbed at his temples. Students were staring through the open door, “I have class. If you’re so obsessed with knowing why an imaginary version of my father was shouting obscenities, you know how to stalk me.”

Harry huffed and marched out of the room. He was not obsessed and he would certainly not resort to _stalking_ Malfoy. He thanked Alyssa for the help and announced that the situation had been taken care of. There was nothing to worry about. 

“Ms. Jordan, if you don’t mind, I would like to speak to you sometime after class. I think I may have found something for you.” She nodded and said she would come by his classroom before lunch.

Harry made his way back to his classroom as he thought over recent events once more. He’d only seen Draco crying like that three other times. The first time had been in sixth year, an event that hadn’t ended well. The second had been when Draco was inches away from death in the room of requirement. The third time was after Voldemort died. Draco had been found by Harry thanks to the Marauder’s map. Narcissa had been looking for him in the rubble and was starting to suspect the worst when Harry spotted his floating name up in the astronomy tower. He’d been crying for hours even after the news of Voldemort’s defeat. Harry had left before Draco had looked up from his knees to cry into his mother’s chest. This fourth time hadn’t been the same. They weren’t fighting on opposite sides of a war. This was more personal. The boggart has been his father. What had be been so afraid of? It wasn’t the presence of his father, Draco had never shown any fear at the mention of his name and Harry would know if he was afraid. It was something about what he’d said. 

Something Harry didn’t know. Harry knew almost all there was to know about Draco Malfoy and he couldn’t help but be annoyed that there was something unknown to him. _How dare you associate the Malfoy name with such perversions_. What perversions? Truly the one Malfoy heir couldn’t be scared of that. Harry needed to know why.

His class was empty when he arrived. He’d dismissed his class to go to the dungeons and he didn’t have any more classes before Monday. He only had two classes that day and that had been his second. He sighed. His classroom was a mess. The desks had been moved to both sides in preparation for the sixth year’s practical lesson and the benches were piled on top in a very hazardous way. Papers lined the windows, still ungraded from last week’s assignments. Harry was secretly hoping to give out detention so he wouldn’t have to correct them alone. It really was the worst part of his job. His desk was covered in unread letters he’d received over the course of the week that were most likely from overbearing parents and his blackboard was in dire need of a good cleaning.

A few creatures rattled in their covered cages but Harry paid them no mind. He replaced the desks to their usual positions and washed the board with a silent flick of his wand. He decided to deal with the papers he needed to grade first, and then later move on to the angry parent letters, if he had time. 

It was a long tiresome aspect of his job that he would despise if not for the pride he felt for his student’s success. He was nearing his last of the third-year essays when Ms. Jordan coughed to announce her presence.

“I may have to thank you, Alyssa, for saving me from the repetitive task of correcting work.” He grinned, “Come sit.”

Alyssa walked toward the first row of desks and sat down, “I could help you with those if you’d like.” She gestured toward the stack of first-year assignments waiting in his desk.

“That won’t be necessary. I should have known not to give assignments to so many of my groups at once.” He walked around his desk and sat on the edge of it, crumpling a few letters in the process. “I wanted to ask if you’d thought of anything you’d like to do after you graduate since the last time we spoke.” She shook her head, “Well in that case, I might suggest you think about becoming a healer.”

“I don’t know why you would suggest that, professor, I’ve mentioned already that I’d bore myself with the routine of it all. If I didn’t mind working with criminals I would have thought to be an auror.”

“Well, I think there is a certain kind of healer that you may have overlooked.” He stood and went to rummage through his desk, “I’ve read an article about a new decision of healer that specializes in emergency cases like in the muggle world. I can’t seem to find it. Regardless, these healers go to different places to help aurors bring gravely injured people into their care. You would get a lot of field work, like an auror, without working with criminals and helping those in need. I think it would be a good fit for you, Ms. Jordan.” He looked at her and smirked, “If I’d known you could be so good at handling emergency situations like before, I would have thought of this earlier.”

“You think I did good?” She looked slightly relieved, “Oh! I just felt so terrible when I was pushing everyone out of the way, but I knew it had to be done. Would that be useful, you think? A healer like you’ve described mist be able to escort people through crowds, I suppose. Oh! This gives me so many more possibilities! I will definitely look into it, professor Potter!” Without leaving any time for a response, the girl was bouncing out the door in a flurry of red-hair.

With his momentary distraction over with, Harry turned back to his tedious work. After about another thirty essays about the uses and counters of a simple knockback jinx, he abandoned his corrections and made his way down for lunch where Neville was waiting for him.

“I heard students talking about a fight between you and Malfoy?”

“The fight wasn’t between Malfoy and I.” Even though he spoke the truth, his tone was defensive. He sighed, “Rumours sure do get twisted around here.”

“Well I’m glad, because Merlin knows I would have been the one to have to endure your constant complaining. I’ve had enough if your Malfoy obsession to last me a life time, I can only wonder how Ron must have felt back in school.” _If you’re so obsessed, you know how to stalk me._

The conversation twisted into one about lessons and upcoming events. Harry stared across the hall at a young couple at the Ravenclaw table. The two were holding hands beneath the table and smiling at each other, reminding him what he’d missed out on in his youth.   
Needless to say, Harry went to bed in a grumpy mood that evening. Hermione had been trying to set him up with a few witches, but he just wasn’t interested in any of them. Sure they were nice, but Harry wanted what she and Ron had. “Bonds like the one Ron and I have didn’t form on the first date, Harry.” She’d told him countless times that if he just put in the effort and the time, he would find someone. He just didn’t have the time. He was fine, he was happy, even. 

He lay in bed thinking about the different dates he’d been on over the past year. Maybe he just wasn’t destined to fall in love. Maybe that bond he craved didn’t exist. Ron had often joked about how his perfect witch sounded more like a wizard, but Harry refused to believe it. It was getting harder and harder to do, though. He still couldn’t find himself to like any of the witches Hermione set him up with.

He decided to stop thinking of such things. He turned onto his side and faced the warm flames of the fire across the room. He wondered what the boggart would have shown him had he stepped in front of Draco earlier. Voldemort, death, small cupboards, maybe. Loneliness? His thoughts all swirled back to his previous problem. With a start he sat up in bed and summoned a sleeping draught he’d gotten from George. The speed at which his brain was spewing ideas about dying alone and never finding someone to share a home with was enough to make him dizzy and he quickly downed the potion. He felt his fingers tingle and his thoughts trickled to a stop. 

**Author's Note:**

> This story isn’t completed. I will be posting more.


End file.
